


professional

by Livinei



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: also mozart is only mentioned, like saluwueri said - antonio has not known a peaceful day in his entire life, this is the first time im posting anything here so let me live im learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinei/pseuds/Livinei
Summary: Antonio loves his brother, he really does, but sometimes all the time he regrets Francesco isn't mute, or live as a sheep-raising hermit in Iceland. Either would do.A drabble in which Francesco is a typical brother who does not let Antonio live.





	professional

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr user @saluwueri is responsible for putting an idea of francesco salieri into my head so he's partly to blame for this :P  
> Also I basically took some history stuff and kind of butchered it for the sake of this drabble but whatever ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Per_la_ricuperata_salute_di_Ofelia )

Salieri’s living room was quiet, the only sound being a radio playing on low volume in the other room, which he was certain he hadn’t turned on when he’d left this morning. Then again, he didn’t recall leaving an older brother lounging on his sofa either, one of these things probably caused the other. It wasn’t the first time that Francesco had let himself into Antonio’s apartment, most certainly wouldn’t be the last, and by now Antonio had stopped wondering how he even got the key. As it was, Cesco seemed to have had enough fun on his brother’s behalf – it had been a  _long_  hour so far, one would think he’d be used to it by now – and currently occupied most of the sofa, twirling a violin bow in one hand and stirring a mug of tea with the other. 

“Nancy Storace is getting better,” Francesco said after a couple minutes of lulled silence, making conversation. Of course  _this_ was what he decided to talk about. Just as Antonio had thought he’d have relative peace for the rest of the evening. He should have known; Truthfully, when did he ever have peace with Fran?

“I know. I’m glad,” he said, determinedly unwilling to give this particular conversation anything above the bare minimum. The setting sun casting a reddish glow around his brother created an ominous feeling of impending doom, and Antonio didn’t like where he seemed to be going. Francesco smiled, unphazed, taking a purposefully long sip from his mug.

“Lorenzo is writing her a song, to celebrate her recovery.”

“I heard he was,” Antonio hummed, hoping that Fra would drop the subject, though more out of habit than of actually deeming it possible. 

“Then did you hear he wants you and Mozart to write the music for it?” 

“I did. He talked about it yesterday.” 

“What’d you say to him?” 

Antonio really didn’t bother holding back the exasperated sigh that all but demanded to be freed.

“I said yes,  _which you clearly already know_. Whatever you’re getting to,” he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was, because wherever Mozart was involved there seemed to be one single direction his devil of a sibling seemed to be able to walk, “spare me.” 

Fran’s responding smile was innocent – too innocent – and sweet, and Antonio could already feel a headache starting to form. He wouldn’t have said he was the best person to walk this planet, but he really didn’t know what bad he’d ever done to deserve this.

“I’m not getting to anything,” the older one gasped, a hand on his heart, smile dancing on his lips.

“Right, because you never are.”

“Exactly.” Another infuriatingly long sip. Truly, Antonio had come to realize that growing up with someone like Francesco teaches you a lot of patience, but a lifetime of him can wear it  _very_  thin. “So you and Mozart are going to be working on it. Together. The two of you.” 

Antonio groaned. “Yes. Do you want me to pull out a dictionary and tell you the meaning of the word  _‘professional’_? I’m not sure it’s in your vocabulary.”

“You say that as if the moment your gay pining ass sees his pretty little face every professional thought you might have had didn’t immediately leave this entire galaxy.”

If looks could kill, Francesco should have been more concerned for his own well-being, but as it was he merely countered his younger brother’s daggers with a shameless, self-satisfied,  _infuriating_  grin. And any blood that rushed to Antonio’s face was purely there because of annoyance, anger, and nothing else.

“That’s because they don’t.” 

“Really, Tonino, if by the end of this  _professional arrangement_ you have any music written down at all then I’ll be very impressed. I can imagine that writing on the right lines while not even looking at your paper because you’re too busy staring at Mozart would be quite a feat.”

“You do realize that I spend time in his proximity quite often, right? This time isn’t going to be any different just because we’re on a joint project.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying! It’ll be like any other time I’ve seen you near him.” 

Oh, this was going to be a long night.


End file.
